


Revised Session

by thefrankydoyles



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 05:03:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9969389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefrankydoyles/pseuds/thefrankydoyles
Summary: Franky is asked to come back to Wentworth three years after being paroled to speak to the women. After the event, she makes a detour to Bridget's office.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Fridgetfan and Trace for this prompt that wouldn't get out of my head ;). Don't worry, "First" will be updated soon, but needed to get this out of my system!

The familiar stench of the prison assaulted Franky's senses as soon as she walked through the door- a mixture of bleach, stale air, and processed food. The quintessential smell akin to hopelessness if there ever was one.

It wasn't as if she completely forgot what the place smelled like; how could she, when half of the laundry she washed each week spent fifty hours here? And she'd been to the visitor's room a handful of times, first to see Bea, and then eventually Boomer. But there was something about knowing that she would be deep inside these walls for the next hour or two, mere steps away from her old cell block, that made the stench that much more potent.

Franky tapped her foot in an attempt to expel some of her anxious energy. Vera was supposed to meet her at the front check-in five minutes ago. The young guard behind the window kept shooting glances her way, studying her like he was trying to picture her in a teal tracksuit and dirty white converse, instead of her crisp black blazer and crop pants. She wanted to tell him to fuck off, but she bit her tongue and checked her watch again.

_Come on, Vera._

The heavy double doors finally opened and Vera rushed through, looking a bit frazzled. A little birdie had told Franky earlier in the week that Vera was under extra pressure from the new board members, so she refrained from making a smart comment about the wait.

"Sorry I'm late, we had a bit of a situation but the library's all ready for you now," Vera explained, rushing through her words as she grabbed Franky's visitor pass from the guard at the window.

"Ah, it's no sweat, Veers, I remember those days," Franky winked.

Vera cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes at Franky at the use of the nickname.

Franky smiled and clicked her tongue. "Sorry, I mean governor."

"Mm," Vera nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Vera swiped her card at the door and led them down the corridor towards the library.

"So, you have an idea of what you're going to say to the women?"

"Nah, just thought I'd wing it."

Vera flashed a panicked expression Franky's way.

"Sheesh, I'm messing with ya! Of course I know what I'm going to say. I have handouts and everything."

"You do?" Vera asked, a hint of skepticism still lingering in her voice.

"Yeah, just some numbers and directions for women's and education centers, the free clinic, Legal Relief. That sort of thing," Franky shrugged.

Vera stopped just before the library's doors and let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Sorry, of course. Um, thanks again for doing this, Franky. I think the women will really connect with you, and the information you give them will hold a lot of weight."

Franky nodded and turned the corners of her lips up in a tight smile. The truth was, when Vera first asked her to come and speak to the women who were up for parole within the year, she was hesitant. Who was she to give advice and act like she had all the magic answers? She was still figuring it all out for herself, three years later.

Sure, on paper, Franky was one of Wentworth's most successful former prisoners and parolees to date. She finished her law degree with high marks, had begun a dual Master's program in Legal Studies and Human Right's Law five months ago, and was still working thirty hours a week as a paralegal at Legal Relief.

But the shiny piece of paper didn't tell the whole story. It failed to mention that she had help, the kind of help that ninety-nine percent of these women would never have. That she had access to money, and good food, and a computer to do her work, and a beautiful, warm house- things that seemed like luxuries. Or that how during her first seven nights out of Wentworth, when she woke up covered in a sheen of sweat or felt an inevitable panic-attack coming on, she had arms that would wrap her up in a tight embrace and tuck her back into a warm, safe bed. Or, that when she got in way too deep and had a gun held to her face, and came home shaking and scared, she had someone in her corner to help her pick up the pieces.

But the same person who provided Franky with all of that support reminded her very recently of all the work she did on her own. The work she did to better herself and create a life free of violence- something that, at one point, Franky never thought she would have. She had the education, knowledge, and tools on the outside, paired with the shared experience from her time on the inside, to really make a difference for these women. And she couldn't pass that up.

"Ready?" Vera confirmed, her hand on the door handle.

Franky let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"Yep, let's do this."

***

In the end, Franky was glad she agreed to speak to the women. It was a sizable group, much larger than anticipated; apparently some women who weren't up for parole in the foreseeable future had even requested to join. Franky was positive some were there just out of sheer curiosity- to see for themselves if the infamous Franky Doyle was really faring as well on the outside as rumored. And expectedly, a few were only there to heckle her.

_"Where's the information on how to get into the psych's pants?"_

_"Hey Franky, I hear Westfall goes commando, care to confirm or deny?"_

The insolent objectification of her girl made her skin crawl, but she took a page out of her old handbook and didn't dare let it show.

"I wouldn't know, but if you need some material for your bedtime stories, why don't you ask Ms. Bennett to add a lezzo erotica section to the library?"

Most of the inmates had heard the rumors of the former top-dog and the psych's relationship, if not seen it develop for themselves, but no way was Franky going to give them any definitive ammo to use.

She even removed the ring she wore on her left hand before she walked into the prison this morning.

Aside from those few comments, the women seemed to take Franky seriously and her advice to heart. Three years ago Franky would have been sitting with them, asking questions and scribbling down as many notes as she could, too. She empathized with these women.

After packing up her stuff (when she finally managed to escape Boomer's viselike goodbye hug with the promise of another visit soon) Franky took one last look around the library, memories of years she'd rather not think about too hard flooding her brain. She smiled though as her eyes landed on the third row of book shelves.

_"Not here, not yet."_

Not all of her memories from this concrete hell were bad ones.

She suddenly had an idea, and figured that she just might get lucky given who was in charge of escorting her out.

"Hey Smiles, what do you say to doing me just one more favor?"

Linda Miles crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at Franky.

Franky flashed a smile and winked, "Come on. For old time's sake?"

***

Ten minutes later, Franky opened and shut the door to the familiar office. She hadn't laid eyes on the wooden desk or green chair in years, but suddenly she was catapulted back in time and it was like she never left. She flopped down in the armchair, and found herself an inmate again, fending off the psychopaths and dickheads, just trying to survive her last few months before she could walk out those gates and never come back.

She honest to god thought she wouldn't make it.

_You've been here five fucking minutes so don't make assumptions about me. There's no fuckin' hope._

_Yeah, you're wrong._

_No, I'm a realist. And right now, my options range from shithouse to clusterfuck._

_I'm going to help you stop self-sabotaging, Franky. I'm going to help you get out of here._

_Yeah, well stick around. 'Cause I'm gonna be leaving here in a coffin._

But she did make it, and the spunky shrink that she pined for during those last months was a huge reason for that. The blonde did stick around. And she did help Franky, more than anyone in her life had ever helped her before.

Franky was shaken from her thoughts at the sound of the door handle being turned, and she found herself suddenly facing a very startled Bridget Westfall.

Bridget had her wits about her to shut the door behind her as quickly as possible.

"Franky!" Bridget hissed. "What in god's name are you doing here? How did you even get back here?"

Franky got up from her place in the chair and sauntered slowly over to Bridget.

"I still have my connections here, too, Gidge," Franky winked.

Franky put her hands on Bridget's shoulders and gently pushed her backwards until her back hit the door, reaching behind her waist to lock it in the process.

"Hi," Franky whispered, drawing her mouth dangerously close to Bridget's lips.

"Franky, we can't do this."

"Oh, but we can." Franky trailed her hands down the sides of Bridget's black blouse, stopping to rest her grip on Bridget's hips.

Bridget closed her eyes and rested her head against the door, sighing as she felt Franky's hot breath on her neck.

"Listen, Gidge. You say the word and I'm gone, but we both know how much you've thought about this too."

Franky placed a feather light kiss on her already flushed chest, right above where the top button of Bridget's blouse was clasped. She moved her hand from Bridget's hip to her arse, squeezing the taunt flesh hidden under her cream-colored pencil skirt.

"Jesus, Franky," Bridget groaned.

Franky moved her lips to the sensitive spot she loved under Bridget's ear.

"All those times I sat across from you in that chair, wondering what those beautiful lips tasted like."

Franky kissed her neck softly.

"All those times I wanted nothing more than to lift you on that desk and make you scream...."

Another kiss.

"Wondering what you sounded like as you came on my fingers... my mouth."

Bridget couldn't hold back a groan, her eyes still closed.

"All those times I wondered if your underwear was just as wet as mine."

The shade of pink creeping up Bridget's neck and the way her body had gone slack against the door gave away that Franky was achieving her desired effect. But Bridget wasn't giving in that easily.

"I'm starting to think I did a really horrible job as your psychologist," Bridget smirked.

"Nah, Gidge, you were the best," Franky breathed as she ran her fingertips up and down the side of her skirt, reaching down to hike up the hem.

"When's your next session?" Franky asked, stilling her hands on Bridget's toned thighs.

"Not for another hour."

"Sweet, so you have a free slot. Want me to fill it?" Franky smiled against Bridget's neck.

"God you're insatiable, you know that?"

Bridget grasped Franky's hand, removing it from her thigh and for a split second Franky thought that her plan had failed. But then Bridget's hands flew to Franky's waist, pushing her away from the door and towards the armchair.

"Okay, you want to know what I thought about doing to you in this room?" Bridget's voice was at least two octaves lower than before.

Franky fell backwards into the seat when her legs hit the base, and Bridget rested her hands on the arms of the chair, leaning over just far enough so that Franky had a full view of her cleavage under the dip of her blouse.

"...What I dreamed about doing when I fell asleep at night?"

Franky nodded, her breath hitching at the sight of Bridget's dark and dilating eyes.

"Show me."

Bridget was on top of her in a second, resting her weight on her knee in between Franky's open legs. She grabbed Franky's face in her hands and placed a searing kiss on her lips, pulling Franky's bottom lip between her teeth as she retreated.

She tugged Franky's body forward so that she could reach around and remove her blazer, immediately throwing it to the floor behind them.

"Don't think I forget how you sat in this chair three years ago, trying to get under my skin...so damn smug."

Bridget tugged on the hem of Franky's silky sleeveless top and yanked it over her head, leaving her clad in only her bra from the waist up.

Franky opened her mouth and creased her brows in an expression of mock offense, "I don't know what you're talking about, Ms. Westfall."

Franky tugged on Bridget's waist above her, bringing her just far enough within her reach that she could undo the buttons on Bridget's blouse. Her movements were hasty but she was careful not to rip the shirt; Bridget would probably kill her if she had to explain to Vera why she had to run home for a change of clothes.

The last button finally came loose, leaving Bridget's blouse hanging open around her small frame and exposing her own lacy black bra.

Bridget moved her hand down to the center of Franky's crop pants, stroking her over the material before expertly undoing the button and yanking down the zipper.

"Lift up," Bridget husked.

Franky did as she was told, shuddering as a beat of arousal coursed through her.

Bridget grasped the waistband of Franky's pants and pulled them off, taking her boots along with them.

She didn't slow down, climbing back onto Franky to drag her tongue down the sensitive spots on Franky's neck as she undid the clasp of her bra.

All those years ago, this was exactly how Franky imagined it would go, were they ever to have given into each other while Franky was still inside. A flurry of passion, fast and rushed due to the uncertainty of how much time they had. The knowledge that they were living in a fishbowl, as Bridget had put it, lingering in the back of their minds like a dull, recurring ache.

Except this wasn't the same as if it had happened three years ago. Now they were experts on each other's bodies; already knew exactly which buttons to push to make the other come completely undone in a matter of minutes. She was glad that their first time together was a drawn out exploration in a real bed-the beautiful bed that smelled like Bridget that she would eventually end up calling her own. She loved that it was filled with soft touches and loud, uninhibited moans and multiple orgasms and all the time in the world. But fuck if she hadn't spent hours upon hours fantasizing about taking Bridget in this very office.

Suddenly Bridget's mouth closed around her hardened nipple, swirling her tongue around the peaked bud before clamping down and sucking hard.

"Oh Jesus, fuck!" Franky cried out.

Bridget's hand shot up to cover Franky's mouth, effectively muting her cries.

Franky could feel the wetness that had gathered in her core slipping out, pooling in her underwear.

Bridget hummed as she played with the waistband on Franky's underwear, continuing her glorious ministrations on Franky's full breasts.

"Fuck Bridget just take them off."

"Well only because you asked so nicely," Bridget smirked against her.

The underwear landed somewhere near the desk across the room, leaving Franky completely exposed.

Franky gulped. "Is this how you used to picture me, Gidget? Naked, spread open for you in this stupid chair, begging you to take me?"

Bridget didn't answer, just hummed as she trailed kisses down Franky's chest to her navel, kneeling on the floor in the process.

Bridget leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Franky's exposed and swollen outer lips, eliciting a groan from above.

Franky rolled her neck back and slid her hands through Bridget's hair, encouraging her to move to the spot where she craved her mouth the most.

Bridget stuck her tongue out and traced the outline of Franky's slick opening.

"Oh god, yes," Franky breathed, gripping Bridget's hair harder.

Without warning, Bridget slid her tongue inside Franky's pulsing slit.

"Oh!"

Bridget began thrusting her tongue in and out, each movement pulling Franky's juices out of her and down her chin. She was writhing on the chair, attempting to get as much friction as possible by thrusting her hips against Bridget's mouth.

Bridget finally drew her tongue out of Franky and swiped at her neglected clit, causing Franky to moan and bite down on her own lip; unlike three years ago, she definitely minded if the entirety of H block heard her crying out in ecstasy.

Two more swipes against her engorged bud and Franky came, her abdominal and vaginal muscles contracting as wetness seeped out of her and onto Bridget's face and the green chair.

 _Fuck, that's definitely going to leave a stain,_ Franky thought somewhere in the back of her mind.

Bridget lapped at her one last time and climbed back up her body, allowing Franky a second to slow her breathing.

Franky felt Bridget relax against her, tucking her hands between her hips and the chair. She didn't let Bridget get too comfortable though, and suddenly pushed her off, bringing them both to a standing position.

She kissed Bridget, slow and tender, tasting herself on her full lips, before she continued to back them up until Bridget's arse hit the front of her desk. Franky gripped the back of Bridget's thighs and hoisted her up onto the smooth surface, accidentally knocking some papers to the ground in the process.

Bridget groaned, leaning her weight on her forearms that were extended behind her.

Franky moved her lips back to Bridget's neck and spread her legs as much as possible within the confines of her pencil skirt.

"You didn't think you were going to get off so easy, did you?"

Franky hiked up Bridget's skirt as far as she could and trailed her fingertips up and down the inside of her thighs.

Bridget threw her head back and sighed.

Her fingers reached Bridget's center, and she stroked her once through her underwear, noting the dampness that had seeped through over top of where her opening was nestled.

"Is this what you want, Gidge? Tell me. Tell me how much you've thought about me touching you in this room."

"Please, Franky," Bridget whimpered.

"Please what?" Franky pulled Bridget's silky black thong down to her knees.

"Please touch me. Please."

Franky knew Bridget couldn't handle much teasing, she was so worked up. She ran her pointer finger along Bridget's swollen slit, drawing the wetness out and swirling it around the outer lips of her core.

"Fuck, baby, you're so wet."

Bridget bit back a loud moan.

The sight of Bridget spread out in front of her on top of the desk, head thrown back with her clothes askew, was too much for Franky to handle. She stroked Bridget's protruding clit once, twice, and then plunged two fingers inside of her, just how she knew Bridget liked it.

"Oh fuck me, Franky!" Bridget hissed low through gritted teeth.

"With pleasure," Franky grinned and placed a soft kiss on the top of Bridget's breast.

Franky dove her fingers in and out of Bridget's swollen center, each thrust audible with the sounds of her cum spilling out.

Bridget started to babble, her soft words incoherent, and Franky knew it was time to put an end to the glorious prolonging. She buried her fingers in Bridget to the hilt, and curled her fingertips, making a "come-here" motion against her front wall. Bridget's hips jerked upwards as she sat up straighter on the desk, her back going rigid.

"Oh fuck, Franky, right there. Don't stop. Please don't stop."

Franky had no plans to do such a thing and sped up her thrusts, hitting that sensitive spot over and over again. She suddenly stilled her fingers as she knealt down in front of the desk, her face lined up with Bridget's core. She parted her folds as much as possible and licked the head of her swollen clit.

That did the trick, and Bridget bit back her cries for the final time as she came all over Franky's fingers and lips. When her body went slack, Franky retracted her fingers gently and placed a soft kiss against Bridget's sensitive, wet opening.

Bridget hummed, her eyes still closed. Franky stood up and pulled Bridget's underwear back up her legs and tugged her skirt back in place. She moved to her blouse that was hanging haphazardly off of one shoulder, and carefully put each button back in place.

She placed a soft kiss on Bridget's parted lips before collecting her own discarded articles of clothing off the floor and pulling them on her body.

"Thanks for the session, Gidge. I learned a lot."

Franky winked, and with that, she was out the door, leaving Bridget still flushed, perched on top of her desk.

***

Franky climbed into her car five minutes later, thinking to herself that she had to remember to send good ole' Linda Miles a thank you card.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and shot Bridget a quick text, unable to help the grin that covered her features. Gidge was going to kill her for this, but it was so worth it.

_"Hey Spunky, the event went well, will talk later. Can you pick up the dry cleaning on your way home? Hope your last session was a good one ;) love ya xx_


End file.
